Pyrrhic Victory
by juliasejanus
Summary: To the Victor the Spoils. After Cairo, there were no spoils, only ashes and dust. A Pyrrhic Victory is still a victory. Scorpia was a thing of the past. Alex was no longer an asset. What was left? Alex certainly did not feel like he had won anything, only lost. WARNING SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Santa Venetia High School was so completely different from Brookland Comprehensive, it was like Alex had arrived on another planet. Only the reality was he was the alien interloper in perfect California. It was no bigger than his former alma mater, but the whole experience was surreal with the closely knit cliques, classifications, hazing and grading of popularity. As a newcomer, he was below the radar. His school record stated he was a slacker. He was everything this school despised with his poor grades, abysmal attendance and bad attitude. Sabina was everything he wasn't; a high flier with her perfect A grade average, excellent attendance and popular with both her friends and the teachers. Alex attitude was keep his head down, get his grades up, keep his attendance on line with Sabina's and then it was only three years to go until freedom. Eighteen was the magic age of adulthood and full independence in California.

Alex watched his fellow students and he was drawn to the other outsiders and those living outside normal society. He could easily spot the potheads, the few with more serious addictions, the runners, the dealers, the 'would-be' hoods and those like himself, who were isolated loners. He smirked to himself, as he was showing all signs of becoming a poster child for potential serial killer/psychopath as he engaged no one in conversation, wanted no friends and did not participate in team anything. This was all confirmed by his tri-weekly appointments with both a psychologist and the school counsellor as the Pleasures had made it known he was suffering from PTSD, survivor's guilt and severe depression with the cover story of the terrorist incident on the International School in Cairo in July. He was himself watched by the support staff and the teachers, as he was an 'at risk' teenager. They monitored him for any signs of self-harm.

He ate his lunch every day not tasting it. He went to the bathroom afterward, followed by the hall monitor to see if he was regurgitating the awful crud, which achieved the impossible of being worse than army food served at Brecon.

It was Thursday afternoon and he was sat in Calculus, absently scratching his arms underneath the long sleeves of his baseball shirt and looking at his feet. When the teacher interrupted his daydreaming. "Mr. Rider report to the nurses office."

He put his head on the desk, so it was intervention time. Being a silent, loner was not OK here. He thought he'd be unnoticed, if he kept his grades up, did his assignments and had perfect attendance. No, here they expected him to be a fully functioning member of society. What would they suggest? More therapy? Taking up a hobby? He then thought of the worst case scenario, his placement with the Pleasure's would be assessed as failing, what then? Probably Military School paid for by the f-ing CIA. He slowly put his stuff in his bag, collected his hall pass and sauntered to his doom.

...

The crisp brown leaves were blowing on the cool north wind, collecting into piles along the edge of the sidewalk. Yassen Gregorovich was on stake out, hidden behind the drapes in a house he had broken into, whose owners were on sabbatical in New Zealand. On their return they would find not one thing out of place after the Russian's extended stay. He observed the agents who were watching little Alex. The CIA field team were sloppy. He had followed each of them home, he knew about their wives and families, their hobbies and friends. All this was keeping him occupied while he worried about Hunter's son. A fifteen year old who was in need of help and guidance, but who shunned everyone in an attempt to protect them and to protect himself from further hurt.

The assassin had been out of the loop for just over a year. A year when Scorpia had tried their best to destroy Alex Rider. Julia Rothman had been too blinded by her need for revenge against a man dead fourteen years to see what an asset Alex would have made, a boy who hated MI6 with a passion, only to be forced back to them again and again.

Cossack was not immune to revenge though. He had thought himself above such things since he murdered Sharkovshy at his dacha in 1986. The event that transformed from Yasha Gregorovich fully into Cossack, the killer for hire. He had tracked down the facility holding Zeljan Kursk and rather than dirty his own hands he had passed the man's location onto Mossad, who wished to repay the former chairman of Scorpia back in full for his liquidation of Levi Kroll. Kroll had always been a Mossad mole as the Israeli's wanted an inside man in the freelance organisation who worked for anyone doing anything as long as the price was right.

Not that his escape from British custody had made the news on a local, national or international level. In fact the British had only reluctantly informed their allies of the breach of security protocols only 72 hours after his escape. In those three days he had made it from Stranraer to the Republic of Ireland to a safehouse in Connemara. From there he consolidated his assets, did some necessary reconnaissance, finding only Dr. Three still working. From there he had travelled by freight container to Spain and visited a very discrete clinic for some facial alterations.

The decision to transfer eight very dangerous detainees from Gibraltar to Scotland's had gone like clockwork until they had arrived in a windswept Ullapool. The crossing to the uninhabited island in the outer Hebrides had been truly abysmal. Within half an hour the wind had switched around and the sea swell pitched the small boat about like it was a child's bath toy. Yassen like the other prisoners had been chained hand and foot, only he had two fragments of wire hidden in his mouth. The boat lurched to the side and it appeared to the guards that their silent charge, who had been barfing his lunch into the murky depths, had gracelessly lost his footing and joined his lunch in the briny deep.

The weather had prevented the boat returning until the morning two days later, the prison cut off by the storm and by a policy of strict radio silence, news of the prisoners was carried by word only. They guards had thought him dead. It had been remarkably easy to pick up the pieces of his carefully hidden safe houses, bank accounts in Panama the Cayman Islands and Switzerland, his stashes of cash and equipment and to follow little Alex's trail of destruction, right back to the annoying journalist and his family. Yassen had watched Alex and Sabina interact. He had been surprised by their fraternal relationship, rather than the romantic one he expected. He had read the reports regarding the downfall of Mrs. Rothman and Zeljan Kurst. Dr. Three had been most scathing of their mishandling of Alex Rider. The wily Chinese doctor had been outvoted when he suggested handling Alex carefully, to withdraw him to be fully assessed and removed from operations to heal. Both had wanted revenge on the boy, who had been a pawn of Alan Blunt from the start, blackmailed into espionage work. With proper care, time to heal and grow up, the boy would have been a future director in the making. No wonder the other directors wanted Hunter's son dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Alex entered the nurses office and stood in the doorway, as it seemed it was a fait accompli, Edward was also there. With parental consent, Alex would not be able to refuse any of the nurses intrusive demands.

"Afternoon, Edward" the boy hissed though his clenched teeth.

"You remember at the start of term you agreed to the bi-weekly check ups. Its just standard procedure." The words for nutcases like you was left unsaid by the journalist as he smiled at his foster son.

Alex glared back and suppressed the urge to run the other way, as he robotically moved into the room, closing the door behind him. Alex had endured a basic medical on his first day of school, as in height, weight, blood pressure, heart rate were taken and the health questionaire were filled in.

The nurse smiled , "Height and weight first, OK Alex?"

"5'9... you've grown half an inch, but you've lost 2lbs in weight and your blood pressure is on the low side. Have you been following your eating plan, no skipping meals and three or four snacks a day?"

"I eat..." Alex shifted and looked out of the window. Dare he mention the vomiting. He wasn't sticking his fingers down his throat or doing any of the gross stuff mentioned in the literature he'd read about eating disorders. Just the thought of food, the physical act of eating was just repellant. He let out a slow breath. "I can't seem to keep food down. I eat... but then I feel sick and vomit... I've tried eating smaller amounts, that helps. The portions in the school cafeteria are immense. I clear my plate, to keep the monitors happy, then I start feeling nauseous. I just can't stomach it. I ... prefer ... cold or light food, nothing too greasy or sloppy" Alex did not add or anything like school food. Sabina and Liz had provided a wide range of different recipes from Morroccan, Greek, Turkish, Mexican, Japanese, Thai and even Korean food. Light, nutritious and nothing stodgy. The only puddings were fat free yogurt or fruit. Liz had lost a lot of weight a few years back and stated exercise and healthy eating were a must or she'd be back wearing tent like kaftans.

The nurse then spoke to Edward "So, a higher calorie intake over small meals and maybe Alex should start bringing in lunches, if what the school provides is not to his liking. I will give you a letter for his psychologist as well."

Alex sat in the car next to Edward. "That was not too bad I suppose. I keep thinking they'll force me to strip or something."

Instead of starting to drive off, Edward turned to face the teenager and stated calmly, "You know we have been quite open about Sabina's experiences last summer with the school and we have done the same for you. You have suffered, been abused and are now dealing with the repercussions of these events. Not just what Cray did but a whole lot of other horrific experiences, some of which we know about. You are allowed to have secrets Alex. You can pick and choose who you confide in." Edward turned on the ignition. Getting Alex to be open with them was a slow process. Sabina had bounced back after the horrors of her own kidnapping on Air Force One and the crash into the Loch at New Years. Her friend, now brother, was coping the only way he knew how, but trying to keep in control.

...

A Russian sat having a second cup of coffee in the small family owned coffee shop on H Street, San Rafael; where the blonde, thirty something, smartly dressed, professional was becoming a regular on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. The assassin hated routine, but to follow John's boy he had to adhere to the boy's schedule. From the seat just to the right of the window, he watched the offices of the child psychologist Ina Stern opposite. Sabina came once every two weeks on a Thursday. This afternoon only Alex was visiting the woman. Yassen knew the route Edward always took from his home to the school then downtown, taking the shortest and most direct way. He wondered on the fact that Alex had not insisted on sensible precautions, as the child spy had many enemies.

After another hour of watching life pass by on a fine California afternoon, He drove back to Santa Venetia, three cars behind the CIA team. He parked two streets over and arrived back to watch the road. No one had entered the house, but as he stood by the stairs he heard the lightest of clicks as the rear door closed again. He stood i the shadows and noted another figure in the room, watching him intently. He pulled out his gun, when the slim, tall teenager laughed. "Are you going to kill me now, Yassen? You've had plenty of opportunities over the past week. I'd hoped you'd have done it during my government class yesterday. Then again I can only hope. That teacher may actually kill me through boredom alone."

Yassen put the gun back in the holster. He raised an eyebrow and gave the boy a nod. Alex's skills were vastly improved for him to notice the russian, when he had been careful enough to avoid the CIA field team.

"Are you watching me, or my tails here?" Alex moved his head towards the street where the Chevrolet parked four doors down. "Those guys are so obvious. I'm surprised Sabina hasn't noticed them yet."

Yassen remained silent in the half light of the downstairs hall, where the furniture was still covered by dust sheets. The blinds drawn. The only light from the glass fanlight above the front door.

Alex stood still and watched the man he assumed was dead. Another secret that MI6 had kept from him. The fact Yassen had survived Cray's bullet. The young man held all his emotions in check. He had grieved for this man. One who had tried to get him away from that bastard Blunt. The mexican stand off seemed to stretch into an eternity of silence, when Alex bluntly asked "Do Scorpia still want me dead?"

"No." Yassen had no need to lie. "Dr. Three tried to extract you from Ms. Rothman's control, but she could only think of the advantage of killing you. She was very short sighted. You killed her. She deserved it." The russian took a deep breath. "I escaped from Her Majesty's Custody. I came here to check up on you. To see for myself that you are happy, settled, returned to life as a normal boy with that journalist's family."

Alex stood, impassive, emotionless as if made of stone. "I'm glad you escaped. Are you retired now or is Dr. Three your new boss?"

"The good doctor is happy just to work in China and Japan. I have not enquired about work, yet, but I will take work from anyone who pays. I will have to be more careful in the future, working away from Europe and North America. Being incarcerated has tarnished my reputation somewhat." The man said ruefully.

"I can just imagine. If I had any money I'd pay for you to kill Alan Blunt very slowly. I'd even like to witness as you cut that bastard into very small pieces".

Yassen moved closer to the teenager that spoke with the bitterness he understood from his own childhood. Blunt had destroyed John's child. "I'm sure we could come to some arrangement over that. It would however be safer to subcontract such a job."

Alex smiled and relaxed. He had not slept since catching a glimpse of the russian three days ago. "I'm glad you survived. After the CIA's hospitality in Cairo I can just imagine how awful the last year has been for you."

The assassin frowned. He knew how the black ops teams treated any considered foe. "You were tortured?"

"Waterboarded. Never want to go through that again. The phys ed teacher at school sounds just like the cunt who nearly drowned me." Alex then passed Yassen and bounded up the stairs, to the room Yassen had watched the suburban street from. There was an excellent view of the front and side of the house the Pleasure's were currently renting.

Yassen arrived in the room, giving Alex a wide berth to sit on the bed.

Alex then stated "I'm not enjoying normal life. Its excruciating. Then again I'm as nutty as a fruitcake now, PTSD, depression, survivor's guilt, self harm, insomnia, suspected anorexia. The list goes on and on." Alex then turned to his father's apprentice. "Do you have cookies?"

"Excuse me? Cookies?" Yassen did not understand why the boy was asking for a snack.

"You know, join the Dark Side, we have cookies." Alex smiled to himself at the bad joke. "I better get back, time not to eat dinner. I'll see you round. How about 2am. You can sneak into my room later. I dare you."

"Its a date." Yassen watched the boy leave, but instead of skirting around the gardens, Alex made a bee line to the stake out car and flipped the two agents the finger as he crossed the road.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex had actually enjoyed the family supper that evening, eating the light miso soup and having a second helping, listening in on the banter between mother, father and daughter. He needed no cajoling to clear the table, stack the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen. He returned to his room after the meal, but chose to ignore his homework. He stepped into the bathroom and showered. The hot water stream directed away from his face, he could not stand any water near his nose or mouth. Another small piece of normal life lost in the nightmare of Alex Rider's life. He now hated skiing, karate, swimming, diving and was hard pressed to find any of his former past times that did not cause flashbacks to moments of sheer terror. He switched off the spray and stood, meditating for a moment, letting the water cool on his skin. Talking to that annoying woman therapist was not working. How could he confide in her, Edward, Liz or Sabina when he was sure the NSA were listening to everything spoken, analyzing if their asset was well enough for his next mission. In an effort to put all that in the past, he had not looked for bugs or surveillance devices in the house, just expected them to be there. H refused to act like a trained operative. The simple act of walking the same route to school every day was like pissing on all Ian and those bastards had taught him. He pulled the towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist, but did not bother to dress. He was sick of being ashamed of his scars. Those reminders were not going to go away. He switched off the light and lay on the bed, he reached back and could feel the raised welts of burned flesh on his shoulders and lower down his back. His self-exploration of his thin scarred body continued as he touched the thin scars on his stomach, arms and legs and the larger scar on his chest and under his left arm pit.

The door opened and a dark shadow moved into the room without making a noise. The Russian could see the room in the dim light cast by the alarm clock, stating it was 2:04 AM. Alex was laid out on his bed, naked. In the darkness Alex spoke to the shadow.

"I bet you removed all the bugs."

"I did a sweep two days ago. The house is clean. It is safe to talk, only the phones and computers are not to be trusted."

Alex was not surprised the operative from Scorpia had checked out the house already. With no shame to his unclothed state, the teenager turned on his side to face Yassen. "You said you loved me last year. I thought you died. I grieved for you." Alex paused thinking on the mess the last year had been. "I don't want to go over all the mistakes, the hurt, the losses. I want to know if you are here for me. Can we move on from this? I think you are the only person that knows me, knows what its like to lose everything and still be standing. I need somebody, because my life at the moment sucks."

Yassen's mouth was dry. "Alex... I... Are you sure about this? I want you to come with me. I want you to join me, but I cannot offer you safety or security. I live a dangerous life, an uncertain life. I have already lived beyond my life expectancy. You have a family here. They care for you."

"No, retiring to run a bar somewhere, then." Alex could not imagine this cold, calm killer settling back into an everyday, humdrum existence. "Twice a week I do a great deal of avoidance with the shrink. As soon as I show any improvement, those bastards who work for Joe Byrne will be knocking on the door to use me again. So, I would rather have a short, uncertain life with you than be used by them, as all they have to do is threaten Sabina and I'll be jumping to their tune."

Yassen closed his eyes. So, it was true, MI6 and the CIA had used Alex using threats and blackmail. Dr. Three had told the Russian this, but he had wanted to hear it from the boy himself. He was no longer angry over his own mistreatment during his imprisonment. He had thought Alex was like his father, patriot. His actions in sending Alex to Venice was the same as Hunter had tried to do for his own apprentice, hard choices for a hard life. Yassen had chosen to be an assassin. Alex had been forced back to MI6 by Julia Rothman after she tried to kill him. Thrice damn that woman, for killing Hunter, for trying to kill Alex and for damning Yassen to this life. "I am here for you Alex. I will help you in any way I can. If they try to use you, I will take care of you."

Alex almost broke down at that point and chocked back a sob. It was OK to grieve now. The russian moved forward and sat next to the broken child in his bed and moved to comfort him, as he had never been comforted after his own parent's murder.

"Hold me until I fall asleep, please Yassen." Alex asked.

...

The alarm blared, far too early, on Friday morning. Alex looked at the clock knowing it was 6:30. He was not surprised that he was alone. He had been so shattered this morning, he'd fallen asleep within minutes in Yassen's arms. He smiled at the thought. In his room, next door to Sabina, Liz and Edward, he'd invited in the bogeyman. Broken all the rules of polite society right under the noses of the three geeks parked across the road. Alex wondered if Agents Johnson, Johnson and Johnson were there waiting for Yassen to make a hit or something. Not for one minute did the teen spy think they were here to protect him or his family. He was the honey trap. Only Yassen knew the trap was there and the team on stake out were doing a pretty poor job. Alex got up and pulled on his daily uniform of jeans and long sleeved t-shirt.

He entered the kitchen to see Edward drinking coffee and reading the Washington Post.

"Sleep well, Alex?"

"Better than the last week, I got about three hours. No nightmares. No dreams." Alex got out the milk and the box of Oreo cereal. Liz allowed such an unhealthy treat, as it was the oneway to get her foster son to eat before school.

Sabina came downstairs looking like a catwalk model, ready for her day at school. She sneered at Alex's choice of breakfast, as she ate a her preferred healthy choice of lowfat yogurt, a peach and two slices of rye toast with marmalade for breakfast.

...

School was school, Alex sat bored to tears as he did not even pretend to be a teenager; preferring to look out of the window than to concentrate on the droning teacher. He knew that he already learned all the hard lessons in life and that history, algebra and biology were pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, as he was damn sure he'd never truly return to live as a normal person, no graduating college, working 9 to 5, marrying and having 2 mini Riders. He walked slowly home, thankful another week at school was over. As he walked up Cresthaven Drive, he stopped outside 885 to look at both the house thePleasures were renting and the house Yassen had borrowed. He guessed if he broke in now, there would be no sign any intruders had ever been there. No the Russian would have moved his base of operations. Alex knew the assassin would stay under the radar and would pop up when Alex least expected it, probably in the middle of the night again. The teenager took a deep breath, it had been good to talk to Yassen, to let his mask go. He was sick of remaining silent, aloof and impassive. He could talk to his father's friend, in a way he couldn't with the Pleasures, the shrink or anyone at school. Yasseb wanted him to give his new life here a chance, Alex was under no illusion that his retirement from international espionage would be short lived. Mrs Jones promises meant nothing to the Americans or the Australians.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex got home with a smile on his face, pausing in the hall to stop himself laughing as he had waved like a happy five year old at the car parked, with the usual two spooks sat in it, across the street. He knew he was the only one home, both Liz and Edward's cars were gone. Sabina was rehearsing with the Drama Group at school an would not be back for another hour or so. He bounded upstairs to actually do some homework. The room still had the blinds down. The bed had been hastily made that morning. He then noted the lamp on his desk had changed position slightly, moved to a more oblique angle to the wall. Underneath the base of the anglepoise lamp was a note. _Meet me in woods east of San Pedro Avenue off Laurel Glen Terrace_. Alex frowned as he ripped the note up and flushed it down the toilet. That was where the teen liked to go running in the mornings. The note had been written on his own notepaper and with his own pen. He wondered what Yassen wanted and then second guessed himself. Here, he had family and home and he was going to chase after Yassen Gregorovich again. He should be running off in the opposite direction or telling the creeps outside that the big bad wolf was in town, only he would never trust those bastards with anything again.

With a big sigh, all thoughts of anything normal were a million miles away. What Alex really wanted was to sit on a beach and watch the waves with no thoughts of anything but the surf. There was nothing stopping him, only the lack of transport and his promise to Sabina not to do anything stupid. He wondered how closely the CIA Agents were watching him. He felt claustrophobic, lost and completely alone. He would sell his soul at this moment to be in Yassen's arms again, but he was a fool to trust that man. Or was he? The russian bad guy was more to him than anyone else. He had returned from the dead for him.

Alex suppressed the urge to scream at the top of his voice, the loud noise an outlet for his conflicting feelings. He then sat abruptly on the floor, breathing hard. He pulled out his phone, rather than calling his therapist, or his foster family he called the number of the school psychologist. A complete stranger, one not in on the whole spy stuff, one Alex talked to as a child survivor of a terrorist incident. This guy would be objective with no hidden agenda, be it the therapist on the CIA's books or the Pleasure's who had only taking him as a payment of a debt. Edward still felt crippling guilt over both Cray and McCain.

Steve that very afternoon had spoken quietly to Alex of feeling powerless, that squashing all the hurt and grief behind an emotionless mask, isolating himself would lead to a breakdown. Was he having a breakdown? The shrink at St Dominic's had surmised from the debriefing by Byrne in Cairo that Alex had already broken. After all he had suffered, all he had lost, he still could not disassociate his thoughts and feelings to attain the calm state of mind of a true sociopath. The school psychologist had stated that after all that had happened it was normal for Alex to feel different, separate from friends, his foster family, from everyone at school and it was his choice and his choice alone who he confided in. Alex had chosen his uncle's murderer as the only one he could relate to, who could relate to him. Maybe he was on the right track to becoming cold, detached, in control. The bastards at the bank and those working for Uncle Sam were as much to blame as Scorpia for all that had happened. Alex should feel angry, but after screaming out his frustrations he felt complete numbness.

Alex pressed the saved number for the softly spoken, calm, collected and completely nonjudgemental stranger. One, two, three then four rings before the man spoke an abrupt "Steve Svennson."

"Hi Steve, its Alex Rider. You said I could call anytime, if I needed to talk thing through. I... I really want to talk as ... well... I might be off to do something completely rash."

The california smiled at the kid's use of such quaint phases "Define rash, Alex?"

"I... I know this bloke and I connect with him, deeply. Deeper than with Sabina or Edward and Liz. I'm deciding wether to go meet him."

"A deep connection? Is that just friendship or a physical attraction?"

"Both, only he's a lot older than me. I ... I'm telling you this, so you know. I'm not making excuses or want you to talk me out of seeing this guy, but I may be making a monumental mistake, but you said I was the only one I could decide who I confided in. I'm choosing him."

"Can I have a name and a location for this meeting? I can act as chaperone, if you want."

Alex paused, having made up his mind to see Yassen, all he better that someone knew he was off being irrational and impulsive. "I'm a big boy. I can look after myself. See you on Monday, I'll talk about what a fool I've been then."

...

Alex dressed in loose clothes and snuck across the garden and over the fence to the property fronting onto North San Pedro Road and jogged south to his rendezvous.

Mike Del'Alio checked the house with a show perimeter check. The subject was no longer in the house as he saw a shadow jump over the garden fence. He quickly ran back to the car.

"Get the engine started, Rodrigez and get to North San Pedro ASAP, Rider is dressed in dark jogging bottoms and a blue hooded top." After two weeks of the most boring stakeout, the kid was off doing something not to his set routine. This was meant to be a honey trap for the Scorpia assassin, Cossack. Only that had been a no show. The kid, knew he was being tailed and had so far let then them think he was unaware of the protection detail. They had not warned the Pleasure's they were at risk.

Alex knew the car would be after him and jumped across another garden to the north end of Schmidt Lane and then across the baseball park and tennis courts to Lowell Avenue; making his way to the meeting avoiding the main road, only crossing to head dow San Pedro Avenue when he was certain he'd lost his tail.

...

Yassen was perfectly hidden in the brush woodland, as he watched Alex jog slowly down the trail. He saw there were no observers as he waited until Alex had reached the tree cover before breaking from his hiding place.

"Afternoon, Alex." the russian spoke softly as the teen passed him.

Alex almost jumped out of his skin and turned to see the russian was wearing full camouflage, part of the forest like the expertly trained sniper he was. Rather than swearing or showing his alarm. Alex smiled coyly "Afternoon, yourself handsome."


	5. Chapter 5

WARNING MALE/MALE SEXUAL SITUATIONS - DON'T LIKE DON'T READ

" So, you think I'm handsome, Little Alex?" Yassen's asked with a wry smile.

Alex smiled broadly back , taking in every detail of the Russian's face and making no effort to disguise his appreciation of the long lean body. "I always thought you were beautiful, from the moment I first saw you at Port Tallon. Scary but lovely to look at." Alex was no longer ashamed to admit his attraction to a man he had tried so hard to hate. "You didn't ask me here to discuss your glorious visage, what's up, Cossack?"

"'I wanted to see you. I am leaving for a few days, I've had job offer. I am going to Las Vegas."

That revelation wipes the smile off the teenager's face. In all seriousness, Alex offered "Need back up?"

"No." Yassen's added, "The job is not short term. The other bonus is if I return to work, those people parked on your street might stop watching you so intently. You deserve a chance at the life the Pleasure's are offering you. I never wished my life on you. I told you to visit Venice when I thought I was dying for you to find out the truth about your father. He was a good man, even though he served two masters. I wanted you to find out that MI6 were responsible for his death."

The Russian observed the blank mask on Alex's face, but continued. "I am not a good man. Your father tried to persuade me from my chosen path as a killer, but before the Operation at Mdina, I had already made my choice. One I fear that I made at fourteen when a man called Sharkovsky broke me."

With brutal honesty, Alex did not accept that the pair were any different. "I'm a killer too. I have no illusions of being innocent anymore. I mean it, it might have taken me a year to understand what was taught at Malagosto, but that Genie has escaped the bottle, especially after Cairo. I am like you, broken but reborn. I'm lying to myself every day I go to High School and pretend to be like the other Sophomore idiots. I'm more at ease with you than any of them." Alex could not relate to the kids in school even Sabina.

The boy before him had a hard edge only attained through suffering and loss. All that the Russian had tried to protect Hunter's son from had come to pass. "Please try to avoid this life Alex."

"I ... I want to go with you, in truth not to work, although I'm fully capable of working and I have no loyalty to the CIA or MI6 anymore, but just to keep you company." A blush spread across Alex's cheek as he confessed this. The blond youth then broke eye contact and bashfully looked at his shoes, shuffling nervously on the spot. "If its a secure job, in one place I could still go to school, be normal and be with you".

Yassen reached forward and stroked Alex's cheek, then cupping his chin. The older man leaned forward and kissed the boy he'd fallen in love with. All restraint now gone when faced with forbidden fruit.

The kiss was the barest touch of lips and Alex felt a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and his heart. As Yassen pulled away, Alex pulled him back and returned the kiss with passion.

Yassen stoked Alex's soft long hair and mumbled, "Stop... enough. I... want you too much. I do not want our first time to be in the forest in full view of any that walk past. I want to spoil you. If we are to be together, you shall be taken care of, loved and cherished."

Alex stared into those deep blue eyes, seeing a strange possessiveness. To be with Yassen, a killer, there would be no compromises. Brutal honest emotions were displayed on the russian's face.

Alex pulled at his sweat pants trying to alleviate his raging hard on. "So, a bit of frottage to get off is out of the question."

Yassen could have laughed at that brazen offer. John's child was always cheeky, quick and never compromised. "You should not push me." Yassen reached forward and pulled down Alex's pants and boxers, seeing his love's erection spring free before he released his own aching cock and grasped both hot and hard throbbing lengths together, strokeing then slowly, squeezing and twisting his grip and watching Alex become undone. "Is this what you want?"

...

Alex stumbled out of the woodland and ran at full pelt home. He felt the blood pumping in his ears, the wind on his face as he gulped down air. He had felt free in Yassen's arms, not the awful claustrophobia of family life, of school and the close scrutiny of the Department of Homeland Security.

As he ran into Cresthaven Drive and saw the stakeout car was gone for the first time in two weeks there was no one watching the house. Alex then noted Edward was home. With a bit of stealth and using the garage roof, Alex could make it into his room without alerting the fact he;d been off anywhere he should have been.

A hand reached across the lintel and pushed the blind bak to allow access and Alex almost fell into his bedroom. It was only then he noted he had company.

On the bed was sat a face from the past. Alex noted his stuff had been searched. Tamara then smiled but her face remained hard and alert. "Hello Alex. Long time no see."

...

Edward stood leaning against the dining room wall as Alex was questioned.

"I went out for a run, OK" Alex shouted defensively. His body language was uptight, closed off and he was clearly hiding something.

"You gave the security team the slip, you purposefully chose a route so they would not follow you. Where were you going and what were you doing?"

Alex ground his teeth together. "I go to running in the woods down by the San Pedro Fire Road, I do so most mornings. I was tense. Your guys normally don't bother to get out of their car, when I jog. I wanted some space this afternoon, OK."

"Did you meet someone?" Tamara pressed, sensing the fact Alex was being evasive.

Alex knew, they were fishing. He had training and the easiest way to throw them off was to answer with a half truth. He had met someone, but he wasn't going to betray Yassen. He had been off being a dirty little slut, he just had to confess to that. He had never told anyone that he had fancied the Russian, not even Sabina, Jack or Tom. No that was a secret he would take to his grave if need be. "Ok, OK... can Edward leave. I'd be happier if he did not hear this."

The CIA operative shook her head. "You are a minor, your guardian has to be present."

Alex coughed and thought of Yassen touching him. He blushed and looked away guiltily. "You want the truth?"

"Yes." was the hard confirmation from the girl who had forced him into a bloody rocket on the Bahamas.

With an inward smile, Alex hoped he really shocked her. He looked down and mumbled "This is so embarrassing." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I went cruising."

"Cruising?" Edward asked, not quite believing what Alex had just confessed.

Alex had seen the cars pull up in the woods, just like they did on Clapham Common in the evenings. "Yeah, guys meet there. So... you know cruising. Going to an out of the way place to have sex with strangers." Alex wrung his hands together and thought about the openly gay drama teacher. "I met a guy... tall, hispanic.. sorry we did not exchange any other details and we touched... got off... I'm not into penetration, so just frottage, OK."

Alex closed his eyes and put his head on the table to hide the fact he was blushing from ear to ear. Before sitting up abruptly. "So I guess I just outed myself."


	6. Chapter 6

It say the atmosphere was chilly was an understatement. Edward Pleasure was a man of simple tastes, who lived by the rule all things in moderation, but today he needed a hard drink. He walked over to the sideboard where the wine and spirits were kept, along with the good crystal and wine glasses. He reached for his favourite tipple and poured himself a good slug of Bushmills 10 year old Malt. "Ms. Knight, can I offer you a drink?"

"Its OK, Mr. Pleasure, I'll stick to coffee" The woman answered still observing the teen sat opposite her. The fifteen year had no problem holding her hard stare, not letting any emotions cloud his face, like a true professional. She would hate to play poker with this kid.

The man then sat down at the end of the table. In the silence, he sipped the hard stuff and collected his thoughts. His daughter was nearly seventeen and had endured the 'talk' with her mother at eleven and again at fourteen, when Sabina started to return the attention she was getting from the opposite sex. How was he meant to cope with what Alex had just admitted to, not only was he gay but was engaged in sexual acts with strangers at fifteen. "Is this you acting out so we get rid of you? I know you think you're being here will put us in danger, but as I told you when we offered to foster you, I have my own enemies. This is not like you. OK, you like guys. Thats fine I can accept that. Date, socialise and fall in love, but offering yourself to strangers is just one step way from prostitution. I don't want excuses. I want to understand Alex. Why are you hurting yourself? This is destructive behaviour." The journalist watched Alex, wishing his wife had been here. He needed her level headed influence.

Tamara had observed this boy last November. One who had slyly watched her, attempted to flirt. Been comfortable in his own skin. The young man before her, as she knew Alex was no child, was closed off, cold and a million miles from reckless. She also knew her boss had threatened Alex to get him to go to both Skeleton Key and to spy on Nikolai Drevin. Was Alex acting out because of the guys outside doing a very poor job of tailing him? Was the kid afraid they would threaten his new family to drag him back to work? Was he using ingrained distrust of homosexuals to protect himself?

"Look, Mr. Pleasure I will come clean, the team on observation was here because of a possible threat. One that has not materialised. I am going to leave my card and ask you to call in anything out of the ordinary but I will make sure there is no more stake outs without consulting you first."

Alex then snorted and looked at his parental figure, who he really did not want to hurt "Great, you think I'm completely fruit loop and Ms. Knight thinks I did not notice the fact I was being tailed everywhere for the past fifteen days. So, Edward, I guess I'm grounded. That does not mean I will actually talk to that shrink, so please save some money. I promise to talk to the psychologist at school. I trust him because he's a complete outsider and not cleared as OK by the spook squad. I will let you now if, and only if, I want to talk about the shit her lot and the bank put me through. I refuse to socialise, I have nothing in common with the jerks at school." The teen looked earnestly at his foster parent. "I'm a mess, but I'm fine with being a mess. I ... I admit, I've done some stupid things since moving here and since I'm in confessional at the moment; I've been breaking into our neighbours houses, just to look around. I've not nicked anything, but just observing normal life. I also have two fake ID's upstairs. There's a bottle of vodka hidden in the cistern of the loo and also four joints."

"Thank you for your honesty but Ms. Knight already found your contraband and yes, you are grounded. The term and severity will be decided by Liz. So, goodbye Ms. Knight. If anything comes up we will be in touch. I hope that you will leave us to deal with Alex and his recovery." Edward did his best to be a firm and strict father figure, but nothing could threaten people like Tamara Knight. He had faith that Alex would recover, find himself and be a happy person desipite the horrors of the past eighteen months.

Alex went straight upstairs and started to tidy the disaster area that was his room, after the hasty search by the CIA handler. He stopped when he noticed Edward was watching from the hall. "Did they think I'd run away?"

"No, they thought you'd been spooked."

"Right? Spooked about some possible threat. I hate it when they speak in half truths and generalities. It can't have been much of a threat because those guys watching were a joke."

"I take your word on that. Next time we're being watched let me know. I'm not comfortable being under the close scrutiny of the CIA."

"Too late for that Edward. I hope they leave me be so I can finish High School, which is very unlikely considering they have trashed my notes and homework. What the fuck were they thinking, that I was keeping secret documents hidden in my American History notes."

Edward looked at his watch, noting it was nearly seven. "Sod, cooking tonight. Take out pizza, I think from Lococco's."

Alex went back to trying to sort out the mess of papers strewn across his room. "Can we have wine? I fancy a good chianti, myself."

"No chance, Mister. You might be off restriction by Christmas, but I prefer Barolo with my Christmas dinner." Edward then left Alex to get his room spick and span again. He would order a vegetarian large,

...

The hotel in Las Vegas, was nothing special to look at, but it was run by Scorpia to launder its ill gotten gains. The upper two floors of the Seven of Diamonds Casino were never let to guests or visited by the staff of the hotel. All housekeeping here was undertaken by a specialist team trained at Malogosto. The facility in the Venetian Lagoon had not just trained assassins.

Cossack stood still, poised and ready for anything as the elevator stopped on the thirty ninth floor. The building was not on the main strip, but none the less was busy with tourists with a moderate budget. No one famous stated there. The Russian wore a designer off the peg suit, and could pass as a gambler. His hair now dyed light brown and sunglasses disguised his eye colour. His face subtly different after a nose job. Only Little Alex had recognised the assassin from his posture and movement alone. Only Hunter's son and possibly Dr three knew him well enough for such familiarity. The killer knew most in his line of work died before they had the chance to either move up or retire. In fact, the liquidation of Max Grendel proved that retirement was not an option.

The game had changed only subtly since the new phase of international terrorism had started on 2001. Scorpia had changed and retreated into the shadow world of organised crime as it was too much hassle to deal with mercurial and fanatical terrorists.

Dr Three had found himself the only board member still in business after the serial mistakes of Madam Rothman and Zeljan Kursk. The Chinese physician was too old for such heavy responsibilities. The survival of their top class assassin and his escape from captivity would mean he could again take a back seat and concentrate on his studies. He had spent thirty years studying the neurology and psychology of pain. He would never compare his careful experiments with full analysis and conclusions to the Iraqi butcher, Razhim. The Chinese doctor was widely published under his real name, on the advanced study of the human psyche under stress. He had stumbled into his true profession as an act of revenge, after the puppet French Regime in Indo-China tortured and executed his beloved wife, as a Communist Spy. The fires of anger had long since grown cold. All the mistakes of the past two years could have been avoided if the Board had listened to him and nurtured young Alexander Rider rather than try to kill him. A child programmed for espionage from the cradle, only Ian Rider and Alan Blunt had not known how to care for such a rare and unique specimen.

Now, Cossack was willing to offer the young man sanctuary, while he worked to maintain Scorpia's interests with the mafia and the cartels, far from the scrutiny of the Americans or British with their war on terror.

The Russian was passive as he was searched by the chinese bodyguards and a young woman showed him into the suite occupied by the fearsome Dr. Three. He feared he would have to break with his former employees if his request to bring Alex with him was denied. In the sixteen years he had worked as a paid killer he had never asked for anything. Now, he wanted something and that alone could be used to bring him to heal. He was out of options and now had to trust one who was not known for compassion or understanding.


	7. Chapter 7

Five days into his three weeks of grounding and Alex was stir crazy. He was forbidden from venturing out alone, so runs were out unless he went on the treadmill in the basement. He missed running as fast as you could until your lungs felt like the were going to burst, your muscles on fire and covered in dust or mud. He wanted fresh air and the trees part of the true wilderness so close to picture perfect suburbia. He had grown to like Northern California just because it was so different from London.

School was no better, feeling like a prison, as he had to travel in and return home with Sabina. Sitting on the sidelines as she still went to clubs and societies after school four nights a week. He sat and did his homework listening as Sabina's friend commiserated with her as she was stuck babysitting her bad-boy foster brother. The reason for his grounding had been filtered through and been distorted through the school grapevine. Alex was viewed as some poor victim of some crazy sexual predator. It would be funny apart from the extra hazing he now got as he had been outed as gay. Life at school was starting to reflect Brooklands, with the whispers and furtive glances his way. Sabina had been supportive, understanding that after everything it was maybe safer to be out and proud as being gay tended to remove you from the approved list for potential spies.

Alex worried that Ms. Knight thought he was only pretending to get them to leave him alone, when it was way more complicated in real life being in a semi-relationship with an assassin, one everyone had neglected to tell him or Sabina was still alive. Edward knew, Alex had hacked his computer to read his journal. The journalist hadn't told his wife and children as an act of being a protective husband and father. It was amazing that a team of supposed full time, spooks had failed to keep track of him, never mind the fact Yassen had lived on the same street for over a week, maybe even longer. Alex had the comfort of contacting James to talk things through. The then through the wider network of Point Blanc survivors, it had been Paul Roscoe who had hacked into the Department of Homeland Alert files. Officially, there had been no positive sightings of Cossack. He was missing, presumed dead. The fact the man had not contacted any known associates, which included Alex, had them down grading the alert on the Scorpia operative.

Yassen wanted Alex to stick it out here, finish High School, before they made a go of their relationship, only the chances were the assassin would be dead by then. The truth was it was more likely the Russian was being stupid and selfless and wanted Alex to move on, go to college and date normal people. To forget him, Scorpia, MI6 and the CIA. Was that a future Alex wanted? It had been before Cairo. Alex wandered down the hall to speak with Steve, the school counsellor about the fact he no longer had hopes and dreams beyond survival mode of eat, sleep, school.

The school psychologist looked up from his file to see his next appointment arrive and that Alex looked worn out. "Afternoon Alex, how's your day been?"

Alex sat down and looked at the blank white ceiling "Reflective."

"In a positive way?" the therapist asked.

"No." Alex ultimately smarted from Yassen's rejection even if he knew it was the safest, most sensible option. He had no idea what the Russian was really like. Controlling yes, but that prospect was exciting not stifling. Yassen in charge of his every move, like he owed Alex, was kind of hot. The teenager then continued "I wish I hadn't been caught out. I miss my runs in the forest."

"And your sexual liaisons, I assume."

"Would you be shocked if I said it wasn't just some random guy. I lied to Edward. I'm protecting my boyfriend, my older boyfriend. I know its a felony to fuck under 18's here. Its also complicated that the guy can't be open in this relationship and it has nothing to do with my age."

The therapist thought about all the other cryptic clues he had given about Alex's friend and confidant, it made sense the guy was in the military using cruising to hide his true sexuality. "I take it your boyfriend is covered by Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

"Maybe. Its not like he's around anymore. I might see him when he gets back from his trip abroad." Alex exhaled, like any in the military Cossack was trapped by his profession, but the problem wasn't regulations or Alex's age or gender, just the fact he was Alex Rider teen superspy.

"Are you serious about him?"

"I want to be, he's the guy I can talk and relate to. I fel like a real person with him. He gets what happened to me in Cairo, but he's been there and dealt with stuff like that. He's an orphan, a survivor and I can't blame him for going too far as we only got hot and heavy cause he was leaving. I wish I'd insisted on going to a motel now and gone all the way. I might never see him again."

Alex felt better for talking about Yassen without going into details. "Am I a fool for wanting a proper relationship. Even if he says I have to wait until I'm 18 for that."

"I'd say he's giving you mixed messages. I take it he's as serious about you?"

"He said 'I love you' and he means it. Only, I think he wants me to get on with my life and not wait around for him. So its mixed messages, I wish I was 18 now then I could just be with him, even if its on his terms."

"I take from that he is controlling?"

"Completely and utterly in command. I like it. He's the voice of reason, while I'm impetuous and impulsive. I miss him so much. Not the physical things either, just to talk. Not helped by my being grounded. I feel a little stir crazy as I can't go jogging on my own. Nor will I be allowed to."

"How will you and your boyfriend meet up?"

"We'll manage I'm sure. If Edward and Liz try and stop me, I'll just leave in February, go back to London. At sixteen you can legally live on your own in the UK. I'd just get a job or go on the social to finish school. It'll be horrible, but its my choice who I date and who I fuck within the privacy of my own place that is. No more sexual encounters in woodland, though that was kind of a turn on"

"100% sure of your sexuality? Not putting this down to experimentation?"

"No... I've been in denial for a while about liking boys. I think Jack knew that I was on the fence about it, but she was cool that way. Boys or girls, whatever turned me on was fine. I just couldn't talk to Tom, my best friend in London, about it and I now glad I didn't. Last time I spoke to him he was pretty foul, blamed me for getting Jack killed. Well, I suppose he's right about that. "

"Who was the adult in the parental role? You or Jack?"

"Jack." Alex said morosely

"She was doing her best to look out for you. You were both in the wrong place at the wrong time. She died. You survived. She would want you to live life to the fullest. Finish school, get great SATs and go to college. I can say that for sure. Meet those goals and make sure your boyfriend allows you to live life to the fullest and have your own goals and dreams."

Alex scowled. Maybe it was all pie in the sky. Cossack had his won problems without looking out for a nutty teenager with serious psychological problems. "Fine, I get it. I acted like a tit so suck up the punishment. I've fallen for a guy who won't / can't commit, maybe I chose him because of his failings. Safer to be strung along with occasional sexual encounters than actually have a real deep and meaningful normal relationship or maybe its like Sabina is insinuating, I'm gay as an act of protest."

"Those are your words and conclusions Alex. I have not doubted your feelings and interactions. I only ask questions so you think your actions through"

"You know what. I really have trust issues and well, so far I think I right with my attitude and outlook. Why try and form friendships? Every time I open up to people they take it the wrong way or assume that I'm fucked up. Well, I am fucked up, live with it." Alex got up and thought about Chemistry and sitting out Drama with Sabina. No, he skipped the last period and went home, screw the consequences.

...

Liz arrived home to see the hall was spotlessly clean, as was the kitchen and Alex was hoovering upstairs like a demon. Tired from a day of fittings, Liz went straight to pour herself a glass of wine and she phoned Edward.

"Afternoon, pookie. It looks like Alex skipped school and came home to clean the house. He's done the downstairs and is hoovering at the moment. This constant cleaning when he's upset is getting to me." Liz then took a long cool sip of the Chardonnay.

Edward did not know what to say. "I read the text from Sabina. Alex will have to face the Principal in the morning, but I just finished speaking to Steve. Alex had a confrontational session this afternoon and he seems to think Alex might try something to push us away. His assessment is that Alex is acting out so he gets sent back to London."

Liz exhaled "Have we taken on too much with him. I talked to Sabina and she thinks there was more going on with that Yassen fellow than hate. She thinks that Alex may have been abused sexually, which would explain so much. Why does he talk to the guy at school in depth but not with Ina?"

"Thats simple, paranoia. Ina has been cleared as OK by MI6 and the CIA. Alex only talks in generalisations with the guy at school, but talking and trusting is the only way Alex will get better. He's wound up tight, something has to give. Having those people following him around has not helped. Alex thinks were all reporting to them. A view that that Ms. Knight cultivated."


	8. Chapter 8

For nearly an hour, Alex had watched Sabina diligently sit and concentrate on the task at hand, a joint homework session. She had a list, she did her appointed tasks, both projects and homework without the distraction of phone, music or conversation. She was also meant to help Alex with his queries, she was supposed to be a tutor. Sabina was very studious, a perfectionist and not very helpful at the best of times. Their friendship rather than strengthening with living as a family unit was now strained.

"Sab? I... I'm sorry. I know you already explained this stuff on the constitution, but please do not take my stupidity personally."

"Shut up Rider, I'm busy." She said tersely before continuing to type.

"I miss talking to you..." the teen did not add 'to anyone'. His explanations of meeting strangers for sex had affected his relationship with all the Pleasures. He'd been forced to go for tests for STD's, even though it had just been wanking. For all their liberal pretensions, Edward and Liz were very straight laced. To admit being gay was not good. Being a sexually active homosexual was very bad indeed.

"Look, not now. You may be happy with your C/D average, but I have to achieve top SAT's. I want to go to an Ivy League College. I guess you'll be on your knees for your future profession. Yes, I know you called it cruising, but you are just a slut."

Alex sat back, packed away his books and went upstairs. The door shutting on the hall was really the door shutting on life here at Santa Venetio.

...

Alex had been trying to play it cool, go with the flow, act normal but weeks of following school routine had set him on edge. He walked to school, he had his usual pack up books, lunch and notes, far too early on a Friday. Sabina was getting a lift with one of her giggly friends. It was early even for him, at 6:45am. His foster family would get downstairs to find his note stating he was walking to school. Only he was casing the neighbourhood on last time. He needed a means to escape be it a car or a motorbike that would not be missed for several hours. Someone who worked nights or who was on vacation. He was blowing this joint and heading to Las Vegas to find work, finish high school via correspondence course and the very slim chance of catching up with Yassen. He didn't need much, better to travel light. He had three fake IDs, all stating he was over 21. His real passport was sewn into the bottom of his backpack as a last resort after he's stolen it from the ever so easy to crack safe in Edward's office. He could get money by either fair or foul means. Casinos, bars and clubs had a high turnover of staff. He would alter his appearance, just enough to not be blond, handsome English Alex, but dark haired Ramon Torres, his preferred new identity.

This time he had made up his own legend. Picked a name, a boy growing up in San Rafael, several years working in his brother's garage, which had gone bust. Now, following the bright lights to make a new life in sunny Nevada.

Now all he had to do was lay a false trail of breadcrumbs. He was heading south to the city of dreams first. In Los Angeles he'd touch down with Cassian before disappearing. That huge sprawling metropolis was the perfect place to disguise himself after making it look like he was one of many teenage runaways.

The only problem was that Alex was not a complete heartless sociopath. His relationship may have broken down with the Pleasures, but they had tried, they had wanted old Alex back, but his life was too out of control for that. No normal teenager hung all their hopes for the future on an assassin who was emotionally compromised. It would be better for everyone if they never met again, Alex should settle for life far away from journalists, spies, assassins and terrorists. Maybe life working at a casino would see him fade into the background and settle down. Everyone himself included had to forget about Alex Rider.

Downtown LA was a dump, Alex wandered east from the bus stop and found a hostel which was full of migrant workers. As he spoke excellent Spanish, he had no worries about being a nameless temporary resident. He listened to his fellow dorm mates and picked up the accent and colloquialisms of native Mexicans, subtly different to the Californian born Spanish speakers at Santa Venetia. He went through the motions of looking for work, but was planning to leave on two days for sunny Nevada.

Alex had dark hair, non description clothes, bought from a thrift store as he phoned Cassian James to ask a favour on this sunny October day.

...

Typical of the Bel Air mansion, the maid answered before the call was transferred to a very sleepy California fifteen year old.

"Morning Cass, remember me, the guy who broke you out of Point Blanc?"

With slow recognition, the son of the studio exec connected the slight London accent of James Sprint's friend Alex; who now lived in California and emailed him occasionally. "Oh, right Alex Rider the Spyboy? Hi, What's up? "

"Remember your promise, Cass? A favour for saving your life, I'm calling it in. Nothing too onerous, can you call Edward Pleasure; you know my very ex-foster father and just tell him I'm sorry it didn't work out, but I'm not sorry for leaving. I will finish school but on my own terms. Thanks... Ciao. You get the drift."

"You've run away?"

"I left. My life is my own. They were giving me a hard time after I came out of the closet. I can be out and proud without shit adults giving me a hard time. I'll call you sporadically so you can let everyone know I'm Ok. I can look after myself. Bye Cass, have a good life." With that the line went dead.


End file.
